And I'm Paralyzed

Gerard:

No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No! Yes! No! Yes!

No. No, no. No!

Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Yes, you will let me go! I need to see him! This is my fault! Everything is my fault!

No. He doesn't matter. Forget about him. When he dies, we will be at peace.

Get shot.

Maybe I will.

~

Mikey:

I wasn't really expecting him to show up. Fuck it, I really, really hoped he would burst through those doors and tell me how sorry he was for not being here earlier.

And then what? Make sweet love to you in the hospital bed?

I shuddered. No, not quite that far. Thanks for the originality, though, thoughts. Really great.

I had noticed since I'd gotten here I seemed to be progressively worsening. I actually felt sick now, I was shaking constantly, and I often complained about a sharp pain in my chest. It was so weird, but I assumed that because I was surrounded by doctors, it was probably nothing. They'd tell me if they found something...right?

The truth was, the doctors kept coming back and checking on me, each time they looked more worried than the last. What was so wrong with me? Sure, a couple of broken bones, but those would heal. They're acting like I'm on my death bed.

Oh, fuck.

~

“Michael, we ran a few tests this morning, and we regret to inform you we found a strong and fast growing spread of the Pneumonia virus. Pneumonia is a severe inflammation of the lungs in which the thin tissue around air spaces swell and fill with fluid. Its... the virus has been aloud to develop, but hopefully with the correct amount of penicillin we can reverse it.”

I swallowed. My mother asked, “And if it's too late?”

The doctor sighed, “He could drown in the fluid filling his lungs.”

~

Gerard:

Something was wrong. So, so wrong. I could feel it. My chest was hurting. I felt like someone was stabbing me. I shook. I checked my temperature twice, and it was normal despite the fact that I felt totally out of it. I had no idea what was going on.

Mom and Dad were at the hospital with Mikey. They'd been gone a lot more often lately, leading me to believe that something was wrong. So, so wrong.

I fought every instinct that told me to stay, staggered out to my car and drove to the hospital. It was a half hour drive, and I shook the whole time, feeling the stabbing sensation. I was so sure I knew where it was coming from.

I tried to push my earlier battle with myself out of my mind.

I had held the gun. I had been so, so ready to pull that trigger, to end it. That's when the pain started. I was confused. I wanted to end this game. I was losing. I wanted it to be over. But the pain persisted. I felt a hundred instincts rush me at once, some telling me to end the pain as well with my loaded gun, the one I had stolen out of my brothers room. My brother. Who was in the hospital. My brother. Who I loved very much.

My brother.

And I threw the gun back where it had been tactfully hidden, and shoved myself away from my house, into my car, and I was now on my way to the hospital, speeding on almost every road. Searing agony and the deepest sadness course through me. It isn't my own.

I'm feeling what he's feeling. And he's hurt and sad.

In the moment, I am totally unaware I am myself with no interference from my ghosts. In this moment, all that matters to me is him. My brother, the boy I love to no end. He's saved me countless times, and even though I know in the back of my head they'll come back when this is over. I dread that moment.

Traffic was terrible and it took me an extra ten minutes to get there. When I finally did, parked, and managed to get inside, I barked at the receptionist, “Michael James Way.”

She glared at me before direction my to a room in the East Wing. It took another ten minutes to find his. I felt like I was running out of time. When I reached the room at last, neither Mom nor Dad were there, and I was terrified because they hadn't left him in days, and that might mean he was dead.

I looked at him. He wasn't dead. But he wasn't okay. I stepped into the room.

I wrapped an arm around myself and walked over to Mikey's bed, kneeling down next to it. He glanced at me and then away. Then he glanced at me again and whispered, “You came.”

My heart broke.

“Ya, I... I should have come earlier, I shouldn't have done what I did, I shouldn't have been so selfish! I was worried about my self but I should have been worried about you, Oh my god, Mikey, please don't die! I love you and you mean everything to me and I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make it up-”

He cut me off, “You came, Ger. Not any of them. You.”

And then he kissed me, right there, slowly. And this being my Mikey, I had no option but to kiss him back.